


Nuclear Cupcakes

by Wynele



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Just don't tell Lucifer he'll deny it, One Shot Collection, Other, Pregnancy, Slice of Life, Trixie and Lucifer are BFFs, Trixie is a Pimp, Unplanned Pregnancy, no seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynele/pseuds/Wynele
Summary: Chloe runs off without telling anyone, leaving Trixie and Lucifer to fend for themselves. Follow up of "Lady Sperm"





	Nuclear Cupcakes

**Author's Note:**

> So, part two of the one-shot collection. I'm honestly surprised I managed to get this written so quickly. Originally, this was supposed to be the sweet, sappy, Chloe tells Lucifer she's pregnant. Instead, the fic went a different direction--mostly because I wanted to write Lucifer-Trixie besties fic.

The detective was hiding something from him.

Lucifer didn’t think it was anything of the, particularly cheap or tawdry variety. He wasn’t that lucky. Still, there was something in the way she moved, and, in the way, she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. There was also the way she had sex with him every time he tried to ask her a question, and the way she violated her own ‘no sex while the offspring was awake’ rule no less than eight times this past week.  Well, the last bit didn’t bother him overmuch.

Still, he was tired. No, scratch that. He did have amazing stamina, after all. No, he was worried. It wasn’t like the detective to keep things from him. In fact, not long after she had learned the truth about him, they had made a pact. No more secrets. And no one breaks a pact with the devil. Not even Chloe Decker. She'd tell him when she was ready, he supposed. For now, he vowed to trust her and to try not worry so much.

Just as he was about to tidy up before running a few errands, the urchin slinked out of her room. Instead of her regular school clothes, she was wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with a rainbow and that read, _Satan Loves Me._ Lies, of course. He was only moderately fond of at her, at best. Still, the sentiment was nice, because, who wouldn’t love him after they’d met him?

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“Spring break,” she said with an unspoken, _duh,_ and hopped up onto one of the islander stools. When had she gotten so big to not need help to get into her chair? She wrinkled her nose. “Are you actually doing the dishes?”

He tossed the cup towel into the sink as if it had suddenly burst into flames. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Trixie gave him a look that was half-sass and all Maze and reached forward to poke at one of the overripe bananas exiled from the fruit bowl. He had planned to make banana split brownies for the offspring’s lunch this week, but since she wouldn’t be in school he needn’t bother. Perhaps he’d make banana bread instead or a pudding. He could make a pudding. That is, assuming the detective had everything. Now, where did the detective keep her confectioner’s sugar? Hopefully, Maze hadn’t used the last of it again for a bounty. That was a truly horrible mess the last time. In fact, he was fairly certain that he was still vacuuming the stuff out of Lux’s carpets. Ah, there it is.

“Do you know where your mother buggered off to?” he asked, grabbing the canister from the back of the counter.

“I could tell you, but you’d owe me,” she said, poking at the squishy end of a banana, then looked up at him and frowned. “Why do you have Maze’s body glitter?”

Frowning, he tossed the canister back on the counter, knocking off the lid, but otherwise not spilling the contents. He had other things to contend with than sugar. The morning had just had become all the more interesting. He grinned at her, all teeth and dimples. “Name your price, urchin.”

The urchin, in question, leaned back in her seat, her manner shrewd as any demon, and drummed her fingers against the counter. “Well, for some reason Mrs. Ferguson keeps getting our mail.”  

The grinned faded and was replaced with confusion. “You want me to sort out your mail carrier?”

Trixie sighed and looked back, looking more Hollywood gangster than junior high student. “No,” she said with a soft shake of her head. “Mrs. Ferguson is going to send her daughter, Becca, over tomorrow with the mail. I need you to be here to open the door.”

Lucifer nodded. The terms were acceptable, thus far, not to mention easy. Perhaps too easy. Admittedly, he was a bit confused as to why she needed him to do such a thing.  Even so, if it got him the information it was worth it.  Besides, as far as Trixie prices went, this was minor. Last time she wanted him to take out the trash in his boxers.  Honestly, the notion of the devil doing manual labor? It was completely unseemly.  

“Lovely, now about your mother.”

Trixie shook her head. Apparently, her price was a bit steeper than he originally believed. “You’ll need to answer the door without a shirt.”

“Fine,” he agreed, a bit too quickly, and then backpedaled, wondering if the Detective might disapprove. She, like most humans, was confusingly hypocritical when it came to nudity. “Out of curiosity, just how old is this Becca?”

“A year older than me.”

He nodded shortly and smiled, inordinately pleased. What was the harm, really? It was just his bare chest and he would, probably, be wearing trousers. “You have yourself a deal, urchin, now about your mother?”

“Cool!” Trixie squealed, clapping her hands and bouncing in her seat. “This is going to make me so much money!”

And, there it was. The catch or what he thought was more than likely a catch. More than likely, it was something that would get him into terrible trouble with her mother. That is unless he spun it properly.  Lucifer blinked at her, tilting his head, and leaned up against the sink. Several moments passed before seemingly unrelated events began to click together in his mind. Such as all the selfies she took of him and all the times she helped him pick out his shirts. “Are you prostituting me?”

If it had been anyone else, she would have denied it or at the very least looked embarrassed. Trixie, on the other hand, simply rolled her eyes and uttered a loud, “duh.” She leaned forward and laid her arms on the counter. One wrist was adorned with countless friendship bracelets, including the one she made with Maze when she was ten.

“You have seen you, right? You’re like the hottest step-dad in school,” she said, and Lucifer beamed, not even caring that he was being referred to as a father. He wasn’t Chole’s husband, merely her boyfriend. “I get ten bucks a selfie, fifteen if you’re wearing that red shirt…”

“The Brioni?”

She shrugged and looked skyward, counting off on her fingers. “Twenty if you’re showing skin. You have amazing collarbones, so I charge an extra five for those. Oh, and that time I conned you into taking out the trash in your boxers?  Let’s just say I made enough to bankroll my first semester of undergrad.”

“You little scamp,” he almost crowed. He knew he should be horrified and knew many a non-hot stepfather would be. But he wasn’t her father or anyone’s father, and in instances like this, he was grateful. He doubted that even his own offspring could match the deviousness that was the urchin. “Exploiting poor Becca.”

Trixie shook her head, all business, and slipped her phone out of her pocket. She flashed her contacts list at Lucifer, and then put the phone away. “I’m exploiting, my entire school. Becca is just the one willing to pay the face-to-face fee.”

“Oh,” Lucifer purred, raising his eyebrows. “I may just have to locate a pair of cutoffs for dear Becca.

He jumped back, startled, nearly knocking the contents of the islander to the floor when Trixie slammed her hand onto the counter with a resounding, “No.”

Trixie glared at him in exasperation. “That’s a completely different price bracket!” She breathed out, calming. “Look. Just be here at 11:45 a.m. and bring your collarbones.”

Lucifer raised his hands in surrender, not so secretly pleased. Nay, proud. “Okay, I’ll let you handle the logistics. Now about your mother?”

The urchin shook her head at him, her expression incredulous. “No, way. You get the information after I get the goods. Not before. Besides, I’ve already spent Becca’s advance fee.”

“On what?”

“You know expenses. Being your pimp isn’t cheap,” she said with the most casual of shrugs and began counting off on her fingers again. “There’s editing software, photoshop, and…”

“Editing software? Photoshop?” he repeated, clearly aghast and more than a little offended. “Why on earth would you edit perfection?”

Trixie rolled her eyes again and hopped off the stool. “Because perfection didn’t take Sheila Huddleston on all expense paid vacation to Hawaii. Which is probably a good thing since she’s fifteen and it’s probably illegal to take her across state lines.”

Lucifer opened and closed his mouth, for once, very briefly, at a loss for what to say. Then, it hit him, he could simply ask Chloe when she returned. That did have a pact, after all. Still, might as well test the urchin in the meantime. “Or I could just ask your mother.”

Trixie mouthed a “yeah,” looking so much like her mother, and bobbed her head in a nod. “She snuck out while you were in the shower, so she could totally tell you when she got home.”

Then she stepped forward and grinned at him through her bangs. “And if you tell Mom about my little side job, I’ll, well, just start pimping Maze again.”

“Beatrice Decker Espinoza,” he beamed with obvious pride, his face nearly split with a grin. “That’s a level of extortion I hadn’t expected from you. Bravo!”

Trixie walked to the refrigerator and pulled down a flyer hidden behind an old drawing of the devil. She had drawn it when she was seven, right after she met Lucifer, before she knew he was the devil. Except, that wasn’t exactly true. She always knew, she just didn’t have words to explain what she felt when she looked him. It was the same with Maze and Amenadiel.

“Yeah, I used her last summer, but I think I oversaturated the market. But I think she can make a comeback.”

Lucifer for the flyer when she handed it to him. “What’s this?”

“An alternative to the shirtless mail retrieval,” she said, then chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip and shook her head. “Naw, I’m still going to need you to do that. But if you want your information before tomorrow, you have to take me here.”

“Nuclear Cupcakes. Home of the 50 Kiloton Atomic Dog,” he read, wrinkling his nose slightly in disbelief. “Whatever in the world does that even mean? They don’t even have a wine list.”

Trixie stared up at him, her face a near impassive mask, watching as Lucifer skimmed the menu. “It just opened in Long Beach. It's nuclear wasteland themed.”

“A nuclear wasteland is probably where they found the food,” Lucifer groused and tossed the flyer on the counter. “Your mother will kill me if she finds out I let you eat this garbage.”

Trixie gave him a look that said, “his fate was of no concern of hers,” and crossed her arms over her chest. “She’ll be even madder when she finds out you didn’t feed me at all.”

Lucifer looked a tiny bit guilty, but then pushed away from the counter. “Why didn’t you say so, child?  We’ll go to—”

“Well, you and Mom were doing it, so I didn’t get breakfast,” she began, wondering briefly if overdoing the pitifulness of her tone. She could cook for herself, well, use the microwave, at least, but Lucifer didn’t need to know that. “And, now, it’s almost one and I haven’t had lunch.”

Lucifer paled and looked all shades of heartbroken, and for a moment she did feel bad. He grabbed his phone and fired off a text message, presumably to her mother, and then swept out of the kitchen. “Well, come along child,” he fussed, turning around once he reached the front door. “Let’s go to your radioactive hotdog stand.”

Trixie squeaked and bounded after him, pausing only briefly to grab her jacket. She fished in her pocket to make sure certain piece of evidence was still safely tucked within. She had found it behind the toilet in the bathroom and knew that it was the reason behind her mother’s sudden disappearance this morning.

“So,” Lucifer began after they were seated in her Corvette and he checked her seatbelt twice. “You don’t seem overly taken with my collarbones.”

Trixie smiled shyly and began fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. She always loved Lucifer’s vanity, as well as his tendency to gobble up even the smallest of compliments. Yet, even as vain as he was, he never judged. Or if he did judge, he was nice about it.

“I like girls,” she said in a voice that was little more than a whisper. Color stained her cheeks as she met his eyes in the rear-view mirror. “And boys. Well, both? Not equally, but like sixty-forty, maybe?”

Lucifer said nothing, but instead simply started the car. He knew what the urchin was telling him was important, just as he knew so much about human sexuality revolved around guilt. Such a foolish emotion, guilt, especially when it was over something as intrinsic as yourself.

“You’re smokin’ hot,” Trixie half-babbled and over-explained, “But you’ve never _done it_ for me, but neither has Maze. Now, Ms. De Los Santos in homeroom?” she mouthed a “whoa,” but there is also Noah in geometry that’s pretty whoa too, so…uh…” She met his gaze again; her eyes were wide and pleading. “I haven’t told Mom or Dad, yet.”

Lucifer made a sound that was far too elegant to ever be considered a snort and waved her off as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Your parents will be fine with it.”

An hour later, Lucifer found himself back in hell. That is if hell were pink and neon green and covered in a fine layer of edible glitter. A fog machine spewed colored smoke that hugged the floor and swirled around his and the urchin’s legs. Their waiter was a young man, a few years out of high school, and wore coveralls bedecked with hazardous waste signs.

 _Hazardous waste, indeed_ , he thought as he skimmed through the offered menu.

“Have you decided?” asked their waiter, whose name tag dubbed him Zombie 15. “Or do you need a few more minutes?”

Lucifer handed his menu to the waiter and nodded at Trixie. “Well, child?”

Trixie brightened, bouncing slightly in the booth, and ran her finger down the menu “uh, I’ll have the Scavenger Special, but with onion rings instead of fries.”

Zombie 15 nodded, scribbling furiously on his notepad. “Anything to drink?”

Trixie made a humming sound at the back of her throat and then handed the waiter her menus. “I’ll have a Tumor Twister,” she chirped, ignoring Lucifer’s scandalized face.

The waiter nodded, bobbing his head, his hazard signs jiggling with his movements. “And you sir?”

“A bullet to the brain,” Lucifer grumbled, earning himself a swift kick to the shin. He smirked at her delayed hiss of pain.

“Aaah,” she grumbled in pain, waving her foot around beneath the table. “I forgot you’re like a stone when Mom’s not around.”

“And how would you like that?” the waiter asked, eyeing Trixie out of the corner of his eye. “It comes with fries or tater tots.”

The waiter fled seconds after receiving Lucifer’s commands of “medium,” “tots,” and “something with alcohol,” leaving the pair alone at their window-side table. Not that it was much of a window, spray painted and covered with chicken wire as it was.

“Aunt Raziel would love this place,” Trixie said, looking around the restaurant with starry eyes. She met Lucifer’s eyes with a grin. “Now she’s whoa.”

Lucifer ignored Trixie appraisal of his sister’s hotness. He also dismissed the realization that if it had been other than Trixie, he would have been gravely offended to be found unattractive. Or “non-whoa” as the urchin had put it on the way over. “My sister doesn’t eat meat,” he reminded, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser. “But I suppose she could eat the what was it… The Nutritional Paste?”

Trixie nodded in agreement, pleased that he did read at least parts of the menu. “She’d like the Tumor Twister. It has pickle juice.”

Their food came moments later. Distressingly quick as far as Lucifer was concerned and reinforcing his assessment that it was likely, at the very least, pre-packaged. Trixie, on the other hand, loved it, and so, after a bit, he found himself enjoying it as well.

Zombie 15 wandered once or twice to refill their drinks and inquire if they had thought about dessert.

“The Landfill Cheesecake,” Trixie chirped, ordering for them both, and then pointed to the next table. “And one of those green gooey things.”

Lucifer enjoyed the cheesecake. It had crushed cookies to mimic the detritus of a landfill and cherry syrup for the blood of the innocent or some other such nonsense. Either way, it was tasty. A fact made even more obvious by the way he and Trixie grinned at each other as they licked their spoons.

“So,” Trixie began, poking at the green goo that turned about to be some sort of unholy union of gel and fruit that he took one bite of and said never again. “I like being an only child, but I’d be okay if I wasn’t too.”

Lucifer frowned, but said nothing, not quite sure what to say. Was Detective Douche expecting a child with Charlotte Richards or were they finally marrying? Charlotte’s children would be Trixie step-siblings.

“What about you?”

Lucifer sighed a great sigh as he often did when speaking of his family. Things had improved a great deal over the last several years. Not with his father, of course, but with a few of his brothers and sisters. Raziel, Gabriel, and even Azrael on rare occasions could be counted on as allies, possibly even true siblings. “I’m not the first born, so it was never an option for me. Amenadiel has likely wished he was on a number of occasions.”

Trixie shook her head, suddenly wise beyond her years. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“You’re also enjoying a plate of slime,” he teased, poking at her dessert with his fork. “So, forgive me if I don’t trust your judgment.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, mid-bite, it was stained an alarming green from the dessert.

“That’s it,” he decided, pulling her plate away. There was less than a spoonful left, but nevertheless, Trixie pounced on it like a starving animal. “You’re eating something healthy tonight.”

“Like what?” she asked, licking the green goo from her fingers. “I’ll probably be hungry again when we get home.”

Lucifer had to admit, it was probably true. The girl was a bottomless pit. “You’ve mentioned my sister at least twice today, once more and she’ll end up on our—your doorstep, so something vegan.”

Trixie cooed, clasping her hands together, and bounced in her seat. “You should make those grilled mushrooms and carrots again. The one with the sesame.”

Lucifer shook his head in disbelief and passed the waiter his card when the check came. “You couldn’t possibly be hungry.”

“Well,” Trixie drew out, a playful smirk on her face. “Someone forgot to feed me breakfast. That’s illegal in some places.”

“Oh, dear,” he said, with a playful lilt to his voice. “Seems I’ll end up in Hell after all.”

Trixie laughed before tossing back the last of her drink like some sort of actual wasteland survivor. A few minutes later, the waiter returned with Lucifer’s credit card and receipt. They rose to leave, but not before leaving a generous tip.

They climbed into the car, and Lucifer, as always, checked her seatbelt twice. “So, we’re out of those fancy mushrooms you use, so if you’re going to cook that you need to go to the store,” she piped up just before he pulled away from the restaurant. “Oh, and I think Mom’s pregnant.”

Lucifer sputtered and gasped, making strange spitting sounds as if he couldn’t get enough air. “That’s impossible, child,” he began, gently, his mind spinning. Not impossible, implausible. They took precautions save once. Once was all it took, Chloe had told him once before he had explained the ins and outs (and a few more ins) of celestial reproduction. Not that it mattered, the detective made it clear she didn’t want any more children. Therefore, it simply could not be.

Trixie reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic wand. “I found this in her bathroom after we came back from the observatory,” she admitted, handing the item to Lucifer. “I was going to borrow some of that perfume you bought her, and that was behind the toilet.”

Lucifer rolled the wand over in his hand and stared down at the double pink lines. His mind went blank and he was filled with the sudden urge to scream in terror, but instead, he said the first thing that popped into his mind. “This better not be yours, urchin.”

That earned him several flailing smacks to the arm. “No,” she snapped, hands still flailing, “I’m fifty percent gay, remember? I can’t even…believe you’d say that.”

He caught her wrists with one hand and frowned. “I thought you were sixty-forty?”

“I was,” she murmured sheepishly, eyes flicking to the front door of the restaurant. “But Zombie 15 was very whoa.”

Lucifer groaned and shook his head. “That is truly terrible taste in men.”

“I get it from my mother,” she retorted and stuck out her tongue. It was still green from the slime dessert. “Anyway, Mom went to the doctor to make sure she was actually pregnant.”

Lucifer nodded, upset that Chloe hadn’t said anything, but also impressed that the urchin had figured out everything on her own. Trixie was destined to be a fantastic detective like her mother or a comic book supervillain. “How do you know?”

Trixie twisted around in her seat to face him. “I heard her make the appointment right before she jumped you. That was after I found the rest and after auntie came by.”

“Ra—my sister was here?” Lucifer asked, his temper flaring just slightly. He was on good terms with Raziel, probably more so that the rest of his siblings combined, but he would not brook any interference. “Are you sure?”

Trixie shrugged. “Know anyone else that can eat a gallon of soup?”

Lucifer shifted gears and pulled away from the restaurant. “Other than the urchin beside me?” he asked once they had stopped at the light.

Trixie snorted and turned back around so that she was facing the windshield. “No. I’d have eaten the whole pot. No, evidence.”

She looked sideways at Lucifer. His jaw was working, clenching over and over again, and he looked as distressed as she had ever seen him. For a moment, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake by telling him. “What are you going to do?”

He said nothing for a long moment, and then pulled into the nearest grocery store. “Buy some mushrooms, maybe some cauliflower and horseradish for a dish I might make tomorrow if I’m not needed at Lux and talk to my sister.”

He climbed out of the car and Trixie followed, hot on his heels. “What about Mom?”

“Wait for her to tell me,” he said, sounding slightly hurt and grabbed a hand basket. The devil did his own shopping. A fact so ludicrous it had to be true. He glanced at her, his eyes warm with a smile that just barely touched his eyes. “I’m not angry at you.”

“Are you mad at your sister?” she asked, taking the basket from him. She wasn’t sure if Raziel would really come if someone said her name three times, but she wasn’t taking any chances. “I mean, she knew before I did.”

Lucifer shook his head, pausing in the snack food aisle. Cool Ranch Puffs or Teeny-Tiny donuts, the eternal debate. “She’s the Keeper of Secrets. It’s in her nature not to tell people things, so no.”

Unable to decide, he chunked both into the basket. They wandered to the produce department, and he showed Trixie how to select mushrooms before picking up several other fruits and vegetables the detective might like.

“You’re mad at mom.”

It was a statement, not a question, but he didn’t have an answer, so it didn’t matter. “No, she had a reason she didn’t tell me.”

“Can I be mad at her?” she asked, selecting a nearby cantaloupe and tossing it into the basket. “She didn’t tell me either.”

Lucifer shook his head, ignoring the question. He wasn’t going to tell the child who she should and who she shouldn’t be angry at. “Your mother doesn’t like cantaloupe.”

Without a word, Trixie snatched up a second melon and shoved it into the already overflowing basket. Then, she hooked arms with Lucifer and peered up at him. She’d grown quite a bit over the years she known him, but he still towered over her. “Let’s go get ice cream.”

“You cannot possibly be hungry,” he said again, knowing quite the opposite was true.

“What?” she exclaimed. "We’ve been walking around this store for like ten minutes. “And if you’re going to fly me around Malibu tonight, you’ll need the extra calories.”

Lucifer looked mortified, pale with hand to chest. “I am not, and I do not.”

“Fine,” Trixie replied dramatically, throwing up her hands at the checkout line. For a moment they stood in silence, the only sounds were the various beeps from the register.  


“I'll have auntie take me,” she said slyly. Then her eyes widened as if she had just come to a fabulous realization. “I can start pimping her too. I’m mean, have you seen her? She’s like you, but hot and with boobs.  Like total whoa.”

Lucifer visibly cringed and made several abortive sputtering sounds before handing the cashier a wad of money and walking away without his change. “Car,” he finally managed, his arms filled with groceries. “Now.”

Trixie skipped ahead of her, giggling like a loon. Then she stopped, spun on her heel to face him, her arms spread wide. “You know you love me Lucifer,” she said, laughing at his put-upon expression. “It says so on my shirt.”


End file.
